"It were better, my son, if you did not chatter so much!" said he, and forthwith he plunged into the vestibule.
At that very moment Apafi, startled by the clatter of the sabres, came out of his wife's chamber. He was not a little alarmed when he found himself face to face with this unexpected guest.
"Are you Michael Apafi?" asked the Turk wrathfully.
"The same, at your service, gracious sir," returned Apafi meekly.
"Good! My master, his Highness, the famous Ali Pasha, commands you to instantly get into your carriage, and come to my lord's camp at Kis-Selyk without a single attendant."
"This is a pretty go," murmured Apafi to himself. "Pardon me, worthy Aga," added he aloud; "just now it is quite impossible for me to comply with your wish. My wife lies in the pangs of child-birth; the issues of life and death depend on the next five minutes. I cannot leave her now."
"Send for a doctor if your wife is ill; and recollect that to bring down the wrath of the illustrious Pasha on your head is not the proper way to cure her."
"Grant me but one day, and then I don't care if I lose my head."
"You won't lose your head if you obey instantly; but otherwise I'll not answer for the consequences. Come! don't be a fool."
Anna heard in her chamber the dialogue that was going on outside, and anxiously called her consort. Apafi quitted the Aga and hastened to his wife.